


How Rare and Beautiful

by kataurah



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24269821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataurah/pseuds/kataurah
Summary: She was bleeding out; she knew it and Rick knew it, even as he frantically tied his belt around her upper thigh with shaking hands, slippery with her blood.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	How Rare and Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Written around the airing of season 8, cross posted at Nine Lives. I hope y’all can forgive me for this, but that is something that my traitorous brain spat at me and I had to write it in order to get it to leave me alone. Please believe me when I say I do not under any circumstances want this to happen. It does have kind of an ambiguous ending though, so you can pretend things were ok in the end.

She was bleeding out; she knew it and Rick knew it, even as he frantically tied his belt around her upper thigh with shaking hands, slippery with her blood.

The coppery scent filled the air, thick and nauseating, and Carol didn't look down to see it no doubt soaking quickly through the fabric of her cargo pants, pooling on the hard road beneath her back, but she could feel the life draining out of her. She felt dizzy and lightheaded; the wound barely even hurt anymore. For a minute her leg had been on fire, the bullet tearing through her flesh deep enough to nick her femoral artery and well, that was all it took. Such a small stupid thing, so pointless, but that was how shit happened, wasn’t it? She’d made her peace with it fairly quickly, gazing up at the summer evening sky, painted beautiful with streaks of orange and red - a quiet, quick death was more than most were spared anymore - until another body crashed to their knees next to her and... _oh no,_ she didn't want him to see this.

"Carol..." Daryl choked out her name, hands hovering over her, afraid to touch but desperately needing to do _something_ as his eyes widened in horror at the sight of her blood.

"I can't-" Rick's voice was rough too. He was pale and glassy eyed as he looked between her and Daryl, "I can't stop it. Carol-"

"It's okay," She murmured, reaching out to him. Rick grasped her hand tightly and sucked in a breath in an almost sob.

"It _ain’t_ fucking okay!" She'd never heard Daryl's voice like this before. It was panicked, broken, anguished. She looked at him and saw him breathing heavily, his blue eyes alight in a kind of manic frenzy as he tore off his jacket and pressed it to her wound. "She _can't!_ We gotta-" He looked helplessly at Rick, who could only gaze back in shock and grief and sympathy. "Help me lift her. We can get her to the car. Get her to Hilltop."

"Daryl -" Carol touched his arm, felt his whole body shaking, the muscles under her fingers tense, "Daryl, don't."

He turned on her then, face tight with pain and anger, " _Stop_ being so damn calm! You gotta fight! _Please!_ " His voice cracked at that last plea and he shifted closer to her, hovering over her; he was still pressing down but she couldn't feel her lower body at all anymore. "You can't... You _can't!_ "

She read between the lines, heard everything he wasn't saying, as always: _you can't leave me, not like this, not after everything._

_You can't do this to me. You can't die._

God, she didn't want to. She'd been ready for death for a long time now – had held onto the thought of seeing her baby girl again, even after everything she’d done - but she never wanted to inflict this kind of pain on Daryl. She imagined their positions reversed and her chest tightened in agony: the only thing she could feel for certain. She didn't want this for him.

"I'm sorry..." She whispered, clutching at his shirt with weak fingers, unable to reach any further to touch his face, his hair, but aching to console him even though she knew there was nothing that could.

Carol's vision blurred for a moment, until she blinked the fresh tears away, and saw them running down Daryl's cheeks too. His eyes kept running over her frantically, from her eyes down to her leg, and back again, until his face crumpled, a raw, broken noise tore out of his throat, and he finally reached for her.

His hands and wrists were stained and slick with her blood as he gently gathered her into his arms, shifting until she lay in his lap. Daryl curled himself around her like he could hold the world - and time - at bay; like he could shield her somehow. But her time was grains of sand in the hourglass, trickling away like her blood through his fingers. Yes, she would have spared him this if she could, but Carol could only take selfish comfort in him being here as she slipped away. If the last thing she felt was the familiar warmth and solidity of Daryl's body, if the last thing she saw was his beloved face, even as it was drawn in heart wrenching pain... well, it was more than Carol had ever hoped for.

Rick still knelt next to them, looking at them both with the full knowledge of everything they were to each other, quietly devastated for them as much as he grieved himself, the fingers of her one hand remained entwined with his as she sought out Daryl's skin with the other.

She touched his neck and he shivered, traced the line of his jaw and ran her thumb over the scruff on his chin. His cheeks were clammy with sweat and tears, and Carol futilely tried to wipe away salty tracks but more fell anyway. She brushed his hair away from his eyes, and Daryl ducked his head, nuzzling into her palm and letting out a broken whimper. His broad shoulders were heaving in the effort to hold in his sobs.

It could not be him, Carol thought, swallowing down her own sorrow as she reverently stroked his face. He could not be the one to do it _after_.

"Rick," Her voice sounded weak and far away to her own ears. He'd never taken his eyes away from her, "Need you... to do it. Don't let Daryl-"

"Stop...” Daryl moaned, the single word sounding nothing like the countless times he'd uttered it to her before, when he was bashful and light and teasing.

She held Rick's gaze – her friend, her brother, despite many things - until he nodded wordlessly, then she sank back against Daryl once more. It felt like his warmth was enveloping her, pulling her deeper and deeper down, her limbs heavy and numb, darkness starting to cloud the edges of her vision. She felt Daryl's hands on her face, his lips on her forehead, breath hot, ragged puffs of air against her ear,

"I can't..." _Lose you. Keep going without you_.

"You can," She tried to say, "You will." _You have to._

He shook his head where it was pressed against hers, "... Love you."

The words stumbled, unfamiliar on his tongue, and she wondered if he'd ever said them before - perhaps when he was very young? - and if he ever would again.

She wanted him to - he deserved to love and be loved so much more than he had in life - but she knew, had always known, how rare and beautiful this thing between them was; how unlikely. They were quiet and patience. They were gentle, tentative growth until they knew the shape of each other by heart, all their brittle edges perfectly aligned so that they both knew when to push and when to withdraw. When to talk and when to sit in unspoken understanding.

Words couldn't define what they meant to each other; he was just her Daryl. Who she knew him to be. The gentle, hesitant, loyal soul beneath the rough exterior.

Carol tried to say his name, she tried to tell him _of course she loved him too_. She wanted him to knowbeyond a doubt, but everything was fuzzy and far away, and her own slow breathing drowned out everything else from her hearing.

Sleep was coming. Arms tightened around her. Anguished words fading in and out like bad reception.

Carol squeezed the hand in hers one last time.

Everything was dark, grey and faded... except for Daryl's eyes. She stared into the clear blue; red rimmed and glistening in pain and love and a thousand other things he would never get to say.

She fought to keep her own eyes open until she couldn't. She heard a cry like a wounded animal. The roar of an engine. Sophia’s laughter.

Then there was nothing.


End file.
